Valore, Princes and Bad Guys

Twenty One

Meant To Be Yours—Heathers: The Musical

There was a painful, deafening silence and then there was Derek's voice, gentle and calming. "Oh, Chloe," he whispered as he crouched down beside her, stroking away her tears softly. "You killed him?" Tori asked from the other side of the table.

Chloe shook her head, pressing her hands hard against her ears. "I h-had t-the ax-xe in my h-ha-ands…I w-wa-atched it fall…felt the h-handle fall…" she whimpered, curling up tighter. Her bony knees dug into her chin. "She's having flashbacks," someone said.

She squeezed her eyes closed, feeling tears burn in them. "Men in war have them, replaying the memories in her head. The thump of the door must've set her off," the voice continued. She couldn't tell whether it was Kit or someone else. "Chloe, darling, look at me," Derek murmured, his rough hands stroking her shoulders and running through her hair. Hesitantly, Chloe lifted her head and let her eyes open, staring up into his loving eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said immediately. "Sh, darling, no, don't be," he murmured as he took her up in his arms gently. Kit was watching her with sad eyes.

oOo

Derek stayed with her, except when she got undressed as her maids helped her. He stroked her hair and they talked. They talked about what the Dark King (who's true name had yet to be learned) and what happened while she'd been imprisoned, what happened to Rachelle and Liam and Ramon, what became of the dead boy she'd killed. They spoke about her mother, her father, her aunt. They talked and talked and talked until the words were spent and there was only silence left to hang in the air between their still lips.

It was comforting and frightening, having him here beside her, not being the victim of his silent anger or his quick, harsh tongue; she was just Chloe and he was just Derek and everything could be okay.

Finally, he asked.

"Did you truly kill him?"

She stared down at her hands, the long nails, the dusting of freckles and spotting of moles. "Yes," she murmured, feeling her throat tighten painfully. Her eyes filled. "I did. I was given the axe and the King laughed as it swung down. I didn't even really realize what I'd done but I felt the spray hit my cheek, hit my knuckles."

She stopped, biting her lip as she wondered if she should continue. She stared down at Martin, nestled in her covers, using her forearm, which stretched between her and Derek, as a pillow and her free hand found his soft, curling fur, stroking softly. To tell him would be hell and paradise: the memories flashing behind her eyes, replaying like a horrible clip; baring her soul and her feelings him, seeking his comforting words and warm hugs, his quiet reassurance.

"I don't know if I should tell you this," she began softly, "but I will. They tortured him before I killed him. T-They chopped off his arms and legs, laughing as he begged and screamed and pleaded for mercy, which he hardly showed towards Rachelle, if I recall. Liam and Ramon were held up, trying to find their way to us. I doubt they could've stopped me before I'd been scarred. I remember Liam looking at the rolling head for a moment in surprise, like he couldn't possibly comprehend what I'd done. I'm no better than the Dark King, Derek."

He'd been silent, watching her quietly, his green eyes never straying, although his hand found its way to Martin's twitching, sleeping body and his fingers wove around hers, his hand swallowing hers. "You aren't. A monster. You never derived any type of pleasure from killing him," he explained calmly, like it was the most obvious thing in the seven seas. Sh frowned.

"My father killed because he liked the pain, he liked the suffering he caused others. I suppose my mother's death ruined what little soul she'd given him. He turned back into the same cold, heartless monster he'd been when they met and I was a product of that cold, cruel hatred. Pain was my constant companion and fear clasped its hand." Derek ran a hand through his hair.

Chloe rested her head against the pillow, watching him, his words ringing in her ears. Pain was my constant companion. "What does that mean?" she asked softly, reaching a hand up and touching his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed and she saw his eyelashes, long and pitch black, like the frayed bristles of a brush, each individual hair casting rough shadows onto the apples of his cheeks.

"He simple beat it into me."

Her stomach dropped painfully fast as she stared at him, into his emerald colored eyes. Before she could stop herself, her eyes filled with tears. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around his neck. The door behind her opened and her face warmed.

"Oh," said Liz as she squinted at them. "Liz, would you leave my beautiful fiancé and I to our lonesome?" Derek rumbled. "Sure thing." Chloe glanced back to catch Liz winking at them and closing the door.

For the longest time, neither of them spoke; her just soaking in his heat, his scent, his breath puffing against her ear. She trembled as she began to cry, feeling all her emotions swell and wash over her, overwhelming her; each breath shook and rattled in her chest. "I'm so-oory that I- I k-ke-eep cr-crying," she blubbered into his chest as he stroked up and down her back, the heat relaxing her.

"Sh, darling, it's okay," he whispered. "He s-sh-should b-bu-urn for what he's done, for the innocent he's killed," she blurted before she could stop herself, before she could remind herself that the Dark King was his father, his own flesh and blood, the man who helped create him, who shape him into the prince she loved today.

Derek shook his head.

"He won't…at least not today."

"Stay with me, please," she said. He turned away and walked to the balcony, latching the lock. "I will sleep beside you, in a chair," he informed her softly. "I don't wish for people to believe you're tainted."

"I wouldn't mind being tainted if it was with you," she whispered, feeling her eyelids bob as she struggled to stay awake.

His smile was the last thing she saw as he reached for her hand and held it. Their matching rings gleamed as the darkness of sleep washed over her.